


Clockwork Angels. part 3

by BeBunny



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-23
Updated: 2010-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-07 11:59:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeBunny/pseuds/BeBunny





	Clockwork Angels. part 3

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |  [clock'verse](http://bebunny.livejournal.com/tag/clock%27verse)  
---|---  
  
_ **Clockwork Angels. part 3** _

 

~~*~~

_Helvetica's streets were swarming, angry proletariat citizens pushing against the ranks of the city guard. Soldiers were peppered amongst the law enforcement, glaring menacingly at the rioters._

_Every where distorted faces were screaming, chanting. _

“_Your misery and hate will kill us all.  
So paint it black and take it back  
Let's shout it loud and clear  
Defiant to the end we hear the call“_

_The crowd seethed and pulsed like the sea..._

“_We'll carry on....We'll carry on”_

~~*~~

The Black Flag chugged its way over the mountains on the most direct route to the independent city-state of Kingston. Ray gripped the gunwale, wind in his face, his expression was exultant.

Frank headed towards him, Pansy strapped to his back, he felt out of place and at home all at once, wearing the gun. He caught sight of himself in the glass windows of the navigation deck, and snorted at how much the pirate he had become again, so easily.

Never so flamboyant as Ray or Brendon he more closely resembled Bob in his practical, hard wearing tan breeches, tucked into high leather boots, reinforced kneecaps resting on their lip. He had put on a little weight since last wearing the shirt, and it fitted him better now, close to his chest against the short-coat, reassuring straps of Pansy's sling tight across his shoulders and back. He touched a buckle tentatively, testing its security, it was held fast. He tapped against the glass of the compass sewn into the back of his left flying glove, weight now a little unfamiliar. It was stitched carefully and expertly against the suede. The compass needle swung slightly, but returned to north. He remembered how they'd laughed at his idea years ago, but had only thanks for his ingenuity when he'd walked them successfully and sheepishly out of the Bucket Mines. It hadn't escaped his notice that Bob still wore one on his own glove, even now.

Ray nodded his approval. “There you are Frankie.” He acknowledged. He hooked a finger into a belt loop and inclined his head down to the deck, where nameless ship-hands saw to the running of the Flag. “You were never one of those Frankie,” He said “You are one of _us_, I don't know how you ever thought otherwise, holed up in your little shop”.

“I liked it” Frankie replied. “I wasn't facing death the whole time,” He thought back to his scorched door, “well not every day anyway”.

“I'll set you up a workshop here” Ray said, “Like you had before.”

Frank remained silent until Mikey appeared at his side, he called out in greeting, fiddling with his glasses until he was ready to speak..”So Kingsto...”

“TORO!!”

The yell made Mikey drop his glasses, even the captain winced a little.

A petite, dark-haired girl appeared from a nearby doorway, eyes flashing with fury. She marched straight to Ray and grabbed his shirt. “We're going to KINGSTON?” She yelled, face defiant.

Ray coughed, obviously a little abashed. “Alicia...We need the Palatine's help!”

Alicia growled and turned her face away, catching sight of Mikey. Her expression changed instantly, showing deliberate interest as she looked him from the feet up. She grinned impishly as he lifted his gaze from her thigh length boots and skirts that left little to the imagination.

Frank's eyes flicked between them, and he raised an eyebrow, then extended his hand. “Alicia? I don't think I've had the pleasure...” He said.

Her attention snapped to him. She giggled.

“Well of course not,” She winked. “I know _all_ about you!” She turned back to Ray. “I'm getting off the ship”. She stated, “Not going as far as that awful flea-bitten city. Drop me off at Way-Gate.”

Ray bowed his head in acquiescence. “Princess.” He muttered under his breath. Watching her march away. He took Mikey's arm and led him down the deck, asking if he'd ever watched a steam engine fly an airship.

Frank stayed watching the horizon until only the moon lit the sky. He crept back across the deserted deck towards the cabin he was sharing with Mikey. He paused when he passed the open door to the bridge. He could have sworn he'd heard rustling. _“None of your business!” _His inner Frank warned, but he peeked round the door anyway, because he felt out of the loop as it was.

Brendon was straddling Bob in the lamplight, in a state of extreme undress, back arched, hips rocking into Bob's hand. Bob was biting and sucking little spots all along his throat. Free hand clasped firmly around the back of Brendon's neck. He was muttering low and steadily into Brendon's ear as they moved together, the muscles in Bob's arm bunching and rippling as he stroked against Brendon's movements. Frank watched guiltily as Brendon lifted off Bob slightly, coming with a stuttering hiss, expression of ecstasy on his face.

Outside, Frank slid slowly to the floor against the wall, his hands wringing together. He breathed deeply and tried to relax. Pulse racing. Images floated sadistically in his head, his own empty bed in his shop, Brendon's lips mouthing Bob's name, Ray laughing, Alicia's eyes on Mikey. Mikey.

He staggered back to the cabin and climbed on to the palette where Mikey was snoring softly. Curled in on himself. When Mikey's arm clutched sleepily and unconsciously around him, he felt as though his chest would burst.

~~*~~

_Gerard took the pen Brian was holding out to him, and scratched his neck._

“_I kind of stole it,” Brian was explaining “I think its OK if you don't actually write with it”._

_Gerard rolled his eyes. “What else am I supposed to do with a pen?” He said_

_Brian held out a little black book, hardbound, and dog-eared. “I have this,” He said, “He, I mean, my friend bought it for me, where your poems are, there are little sketches.” He flipped open a page for Gerard to see, as if he didn't know the little illustrations that the publisher had insisted on including years ago. “Could you draw something for me?” _

_Gerard couldn't resist a smile, the guy was so serious, and so earnest, “and kinda cute!” He thought. _

_For the practice of actually speaking Gerard found himself telling Brian a story, sketching little doodles on the paper Brian had stolen along with the pen, old theatre programs by the looks of it._

“_There once was a boy called Mikey...” He began._

~~*~~

Frank woke to Mikey's face peering down at him, frowning.

“Didn't think you were going to wake up!” Mikey said, brow still furrowed. His hair was a little mussed, and his jacket still hung on the back of the chair across the room. Frank squinted at the grey tartan waistcoat Mikey wore, trying to order his thoughts.

He groaned, and rolled onto his back.

“Ray says we're near Kingston” Mikey said gesturing towards the porthole, he was more animated that Frank had seen him before.

“We stopped at the Way-Gate to drop Alicia off, she took one of the Cloudhoppers!” He was sitting on his haunches on the bed, waving his hands, Frank sat up to watch, fascinated.

“Oh I hope when we find Gee we can show him the Gate!” Mikey laughed, “It was incredible Frank, you should have seen!”

Frank had seen the Way-Gates many times, a product of Helvetica's steadily increasing suspicion of its neighbouring counties. They measured thousands of feet tall, great holes in the mountains, spinning gates that were policed by Helvetica's military. They wouldn't be going through a gate to reach Kingston. The tiny city state ruled by Palatine Wentz had simply grown wealthy enough and powerful enough to declare its own governance. The success of its independence had more to do with the arrogance and charisma of its ruler than any power the city may have held on its own, however.

Frank nodded and reached for his old suit jacket, pausing, then settling for the laced shirt that Bob had returned to him the previous night.

“I like that look on you”. Mikey said as Frank pulled it over his head, “It suits you better than this”. Mikey looked down at his own grey suit and frowned.

Frank smiled, flushing from the compliment. He shrugged. “Its more comfortable I guess. The sumptuary laws don't hold much water in Kingston anyway.”

“Perhaps I should ask Brendon...”

“No!” Frank squeaked, alarmed at the thought of Mikey in frills. “No,” He added, calmer, “you'll do just fine”.

They headed out to the deck to join Bob and Brendon watching the city in the distance grow nearer. It sat in a little cup in the hills, spilling out onto the grasslands stretched out below it. A huge winding rail-road emerged from the city beneath and followed the slope of the hills, connecting Kingston with other cities of Helvetica.

When they were close enough to count the haphazard, blue slated buildings a tiny vehicle appeared alongside the bulkheads, its pilot wrapped up against the wind. He gestured to be cleared space to land on the desk, which the crew gave him. Puffing heavily the white hatted official waved landing papers at an impassive Bob until Ray appeared, dangling a swinging medallion casually in his hands.

“I'm going to assume you haven't seen The Flag before,” he explained, as if to a child, “But you should know this.” He dropped the medallion into the palm of the official, who's eyes flicked suspiciously between Ray and his hands.

“I can only hope, for your sake,” the man barked, “that you didn't steal this!”

He seated himself back on his Hopper and flew from the deck, silk scarves wound around his throat.

~~*~~

_Brian's smooth hands were hot on Gerard's face as they kissed, tongues pushing at each others, bodies crushed against the spare wall of his room. “In the most unlikely places!” _ _Gerard thought, remembering back to grappling messily with Bert in the alley behind the universities. _

_He grunted as Brian pushed an insistent hand to his belt, sinking to his knees. _

_Gerard's head rolled back against the bare wall as Brian's mouth found it's mark, warmth spreading out from his hips. _

[part 4](http://archiveofourown.org/works/64965)

 


End file.
